I’m in a cave and all around me, on shelves and ledges, are Buddha figures, hundreds or even thousands of them. The biggest is about a meter in height and the smallest roughly the size of my finger. They show the Buddha in different postures, standing, sitting or reclining, and they are all in a different state of wear, some old and pock marked, with faded, chipped paint, some new, the gold still sparkling in the light coming in from outside. It kind of reminds me of the Hill of Crosses in Lithuania, the same kind of feeling of being surrounded by religious symbols.